


Dark Desires

by LigeiaSand



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, Bondage, Bottom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Dom Jaskier | Dandelion, Frottage, Geralt in Ropes, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Rope Bondage, Spanking, Sub Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Top Jaskier | Dandelion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:08:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22546042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LigeiaSand/pseuds/LigeiaSand
Summary: Sometimes Geralt craves for giving up responsibility and Jaskier is more than happy to take it from him, to let him forget everything outside the bedroom, to spark his arousal over and over again.**This is pure smut.I simply had to see Geralt in ropes.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 41
Kudos: 505





	Dark Desires

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hedwig_Dordt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hedwig_Dordt/gifts).



> Let’s just assume they are both happy, mentally and physically healthy adults in a respectful established relationship (if romantic or solely carnal is up to you), who discussed this beforehand and gave each other consent, look out for each other and have done things like this multiple times before. :)
> 
> My biggest thanks go to the wonderful Hedwig_Dordt who spontaneously beta-ed for me and whee-ed all over the script and is the main reason this fic could be finished <3  
> All remaining mistakes are my own!
> 
> Now, enjoy the smut =) 

Geralt tugged on the ropes that bound his wrists to the wooden bedposts, letting him kneel spread-eagled on the edge of the mattress. He was placed on the foot of the bed, facing the room with its wooden furniture and thick carpets. Jaskier had drawn the curtains, but the fire and a few oil lamps were bathing the room in warm orange hues.

The flickering shadows casted on his pale skin emphasized the black silken ropes that hugged his body. While Geralt would have been content with leather straps, reins or ordinary hemp ropes, Jaskier insisted that this was a secret aspect of the finer arts and thus, had to be treated alike.

The ropes were tight but not harming, Jaskier knew how to do his job. Geralt had taught him the basics, but Jaskier had clearly developed his little flourishes. He was currently standing right in front of him wearing only his trousers - and Geralt could spot his growing interest there without a doubt. He fastened the ropes that traveled up Geralt’s arms around his torso, placing small knots right over his nipples.

When Jaskier was finished setting him up he took his time to look his fill. Geralt held his breath, always bracing himself to find a hint of disgust, a grain of rejection in Jaskier’s expression. But he never did. Jaskier never flinched at the sight of him. He was not only comfortable being around Geralt, he was comfortable touching him, watching him, bedding him. Even initialising it. Even drawing it out, relishing in it. Even complimenting him.

Jaskier was the only person Geralt had ever encountered doing so. He had had his sexual partners in his long life, but either they wanted something from him and somehow thought sex would lower the price or better the outcome - or he had paid them. Only a few occasions had happened on the basis of mutual attraction and even then, Geralt made either sure to stay in as much clothes as possible or was watched with blatant curiosity - how many scars had he, were his pubes also bleached, was he well hung, was there anything _unnormal_?

It was different with Jaskier. He _saw_ Geralt. Somehow he saw _Geralt_. Looking past his form, looking past the scars, looking past the dark realms of his being. Geralt had never understood why. He didn’t dare to ask, too afraid Jaskier would just then realise his real nature, see him for what he really was. What they had, what Jaskier did for him, was too precious to risk. 

Jaskier smiled warmly at him, examining his handiwork one last time and climbed on the bed, positioning himself behind Geralt. He let his hands roam over his bare back and bottom before he leaned in and pressed himself flush against Geralt, embracing him from behind. Geralt shivered by the deliberate contact of skin to skin. It was the first they had in weeks and Geralt hadn’t realised how much he needed it until now. 

Jaskier nuzzled at his ear, his breath ghosting over it as he whispered. “You are so beautiful like this. All your strength bound and at my will. I am already so hard just looking at you.” Jaskier deliberately flexed his hips and rubbed his erection briefly against Geralt’s bum, before stepping back and dropping all contact at once. 

Before Geralt could even consider reacting, the first blow landed on his left arse cheek, making him grunt in surprise. Jaskier caressed the reddening imprint of his hand immediately, murmuring sweet nothings. The next slaps came in short order and before long, Geralt’s small grunts became hoarse groans. Jaskier toyed with the rhythm, with the force, with the placing - never too much, never predictable. Each slap reverberated in Geralt’s cock, getting harder to the point of aching. He arched his back, trying to get more contact, but all he got was Jaskier’s hand. 

When - after several soft strokes - Jaskier hit him hard, Geralt couldn’t help but cry out. He wasn’t sure if it was from surprise or pain or want - or frustration - all the feelings muddling in his body, becoming one red burning sensation in his groin. Jaskier moaned. “Yes, Geralt, scream. Scream and shout as much as you like. Nobody can hear you anyway.”

Through the haziness of his brain, Geralt realized that this was true. Jaskier had sent all personnel away. They were alone, probably for the whole day. The thought electrified him.

And then Jaskier began to work him in earnest, aiming for the parts of his flesh that were probably bright red already. Geralt shouted with each blow, his hands clawing in the air, desperately trying to find something to hold on to, in vain. He was soaked in sweat and his hair hang in strains into his face. He was trying to keep the writhing to a minimum, each wiggle sending the ropes‘ knots rubbing and biting into his nipples. 

Jaskier caressed him in between strokes, kissed his shoulder, licked a pearl of sweat from his back, whispered how enticing he was and how hard he made him. Geralt relished in these small gestures, craving them somehow more than everything else. Jaskier was always generous with his affection and sweet talk. But in these moments when Geralt was utterly vulnerable, giving himself completely to him, _needing_ him to take charge, Jaskier’s words and touches would awake sparks deep inside him, seeds that grew softly and hesitantly and were often crushed by everything his life was, but Jaskier could coax them to life and fuel them until they warmed him even in the coldest pit.

Geralt was torn from his mind when his arse cheeks were yanked apart, fingernails digging in his reddened skin. He felt a ghost of Jaskier’s breath against his skin that made him shiver. Then Jaskier’s warm and wet tongue pressed to his hole and Geralt cursed. Jaskier was even more ruthless with his tongue than with his hands, circling and teasing his hole before he began to literally fuck him with his tongue, pressing it deep between the loosening muscle. Only moments later Geralt was a keening disaster, his hips bucking involuntarily, searching for the friction he wouldn’t get.

Jaskier withdrew, leaving Geralt to whine with the loss of contact. It took him a moment to reorient his senses, finding Jaskier standing in front of him, watching him again. “Oh Geralt, I wish you could see yourself now – you are mesmerizing.” Jaskier came closer and brushed a thumb against Geralt’s sweaty brow. Geralt leaned into the touch and frowned when it was taken from him again. Geralt could feel the heat radiating from Jaskier’s body, and when Jaskier’s groin came even closer to his, he snapped his hips forward in order to steal himself a touch. But Jaskier dodged and chuckled.

“Do you want to come? Your cock is so hard and as red as your arse. You are leaking onto the carpet, Geralt.” Jaskier tutted, watching a pearly drop of precome fall from Geralt’s cock into the small puddle that had formed on the carpet before the bed. “You‘re so worked up, it seems all you need is a little touch. Shall I make you come?”

The smirk in his voice should have alarmed Geralt but he was too agitated to process, so all he did was rasp a “Yes... please.”

When Jaskier flicked his finger forcefully against the exposed head of his cock, Geralt screamed, convulsing heavily, hot white pain shooting through his cock and his balls towards his spine, greeted by an answering eruption of red heat, rushing through his body in reverse and releasing itself all over Jaskier and the aforementioned carpet.

Geralt still shivered with aftershocks when Jaskier laid him back on the mattress. Jaskier had swiftly loosened the ropes tied to the bedposts and was now unbraiding the ropes around his wrists, his elbows and his shoulders, then loosening the ones that were laid around his chest. Jaskier made sure to rub chamomile oil into every inch of skin the ropes had hugged and every spot where his hand had kissed Geralt’s arse. Geralt’s whole body felt tingly and warm and heavy. He let himself give in, closing his eyes. 

It took him a minute to realise Jaskier was speaking to him again. “... wonderful. God, Geralt, you are breathtaking, you know that, right? I had to bite my tongue not to come there and then. You are the epitome of sex like this. How your eyes become unfocused and your fists clenched and you get louder and louder, erratic even. And your cock…” he gasped audibly “I could sing an ode to your cock.”

Geralt turned around to face Jaskier, finding him stark naked and palming softly at his own cock. Jaskier smiled at him. “I knew that would wake you up. Don’t worry, I will never perform it. Though I have composed some verses already, do you wanna hear them?”

Rather than answering, Geralt propped himself up on one elbow, nudged Jaskier’s knees apart and settled between them. Jaskier went silent for a moment. His hand stilled. Geralt nuzzled at his groin, caressed him with his nose and lips and drank in his scent of smugness and low burning arousal. Jaskier moaned and pressed his hips up. Geralt licked over his balls and up his shaft, lingering at the tip in anticipation.

Jaskier sighed and let his head rest on the pillow as Geralt swallowed his cock. Geralt was slow, languidly licking and kissing, stroking and nibbling. He intended to rest for another moment, for the day could be long, but Jaskier’s consistent squirming and writhing, the moans escaping his lips, woke his desires again sooner than he would have anticipated.

He lowered himself cautiously onto the mattress and began to undulate his hips, slowly, inconspicuously. His growing cock pressed delicately into the tangled sheets and he tried to repress a groan, cause he wasn’t sure how Jaskier would react.

For the moment, Jaskier was too far gone. He threaded his hand in Geralt’s hair, tugged lightly, pressed sometimes, to lead him where the most pleasure could be earned. His eyes were shut, his mouth agape and his breathing hitched whenever Geralt sucked or quickened his pace. 

Geralt began to rut against the sheets in earnest when he tasted precome on his tongue and Jaskier’s hands tightened in his hair, first pressing his face deeper to his groin, making his cock press into his throat, then suddenly yanking his head back.

Jaskier’s pupils were blown wide, his cheeks flushed and he was struggling to catch his breath. “What a temptation, Geralt, you almost had me there” he panted. He took in the look of Geralt lying in front of him, from his open face to his propped up chest to his arse that was still pressing rhythmically into the sheets. “Hey, stop rutting, you filthy thing! If you are up for another one, just tell me! Get on your hands and knees.” Geralt complied, wincing at the loss of contact against his cock.

Jaskier shuffled behind him, slapped playfully against his arse, grabbed it and there was his tongue again. Geralt whimpered. Not long, and the tongue was accompanied by a finger, then a second. They were slippery with oil and the excess ran down the inside of Geralt’s thighs. Jaskier removed his mouth, gasping for air, and began to thrust his fingers into Geralt.

“You’re a sight to behold” Jaskier rasped, “I wish I could keep you like this forever. Aroused as fuck, docile and wanton.”

Geralt was thrilled and terrified at the same time, certain that Jaskier didn’t need magic to make that particular wish come.

Jaskier’s finger brushed the small knot of nerves deep inside him, and his elbows went slack. He let his head sink to the covers, propped on his hands. Geralt had long lost his ability to form words, but his bucking hips told Jaskier enough.

“Do you need more? Do you want my hand on your cock?” he asked sweetly. Geralt nodded weakly and hoped Jaskier would see it. He sighed in relief when he felt Jaskier wrapping an arm around his waist, an oil-slick hand coming towards his groin, hovering in front of his cock.

“You seemed to enjoy rutting earlier - so rut”, Jaskier commanded.

Geralt groaned, a shiver running down his back. This was not what he wanted, not what he expected. Jaskier was always one for a surprise. He pushed his cock against Jaskier’s palm, hissing at the contact and whimpering as he almost lost it when he drew back. He thrust again, his length sliding over the slippery fingers giving him not nearly enough friction.

“That‘s it. This is all you get for now. Chase your pleasure on my fingers”, Jaskier chirped.

Geralt tried to set up a rhythm, jerking his hips back to Jaskier’s fingers and forwards to his outstretched hand. Sweat pooled at the small of his back and he was grunting and moaning continuously. Sometimes Jaskier’s fingers would press against his cock, sometimes he would curl his fingers inside him what had Geralt keening, sending bolts of arousal up his spine, but mostly it was too much and too little at the same time.

Finally, Jaskier gently removed his fingers, petting him slightly and positioned himself behind him. When his cock breached him and slid home, both of them cried out. Geralt wanted to continue, fuck himself on Jaskier’s cock, but Jaskier stilled him with a hand on his shoulder.

He tangled his hand in Geralt’s hair and pulled him upwards into a sitting position, back to chest. He kissed his shoulder, then let his lips travel up to his jaw and bit him there. Geralt moaned.

“You are gorgeous, all heat and desire. Glorious.” Jaskier’s hand finally, finally closed around his cock. He began to thrust, fucking Geralt’s cock into his hand while fucking his arse and Geralt shouted. He let himself slump against Jaskier’s chest, head lolling on his shoulder, flooded with pleasure.

When Jaskier’s breathing became erratic, more and more groans, curses and praises slipping their way through his lips, he grazed his teeth along Geralt’s neck and grunted “Look, Geralt, look what I do to you. Watch yourself.”

And Geralt looked down, knowing that Jaskier was doing the same, looking over Geralt‘s shoulder at his cock in Jaskier‘s hand. Geralt saw their tangled legs, glistening with sweat. He saw his hands clasping Jaskier’s thighs. He saw his cock disappearing in Jaskier’s fist, the pink head reappearing, wet and shiny with precome. He felt Jaskier shifting his position and saw nothing but sparks for some moments, Jaskier now thrusting directly onto his prostate, fast, hard and relentless.

He must have closed his eyes because Jaskier ordered him again. “Look at you, watch yourself come. Come for me.”

Geralt obeyed with difficulty, as he felt his insides roar with fire, his muscles clenching. He watched his come erupting from his pulsing cock, white spurts that soiled the sheets, again and again. Jaskier held him tight, picking up his pace again, frantically panting “Did you see? Did you see that? So striking, Geralt, so beau-ti-ful.” Three deep thrusts and a broken moan and Jaskier spent himself into Geralt.

He went lax against Geralt’s back. “Can you lie down for me? I think I need to lie down.” Geralt folded forward, keeping Jaskier on his backside. They lay quietly for a moment before Jaskier started gently stroking his shoulder. “You did so good for me.” Jaskier tangled their legs, as he alternated muttered soft praises and broad strokes, allowing Geralt to slowly come to. “I’m going to clean us both up, I promise, but I can’t really let go of you quite yet.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'd be delighted if you would leave a comment if you liked it <3
> 
> I am [@LigeiaSand](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/ligeiasand) at tumblr, come say Hi!


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